


Soap Suds

by Sonny



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-14
Updated: 2004-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:59:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian visits Michael, for the summer, from college... and it's a very hot day...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soap Suds

****   


Brian leaned back against the counter ledge in the Novotny kitchen. Crossing his arms over his chest, covering up the neon pink Babylon, tank T-shirt he was wearing, he fingered the shape of his crotch outlined through his tight, white cutoff jeans. The aches were beginning again. He thought he had assuaged them during his morning shower, but new found sensations were flourishing as he gazed ahead of him, into the living room toward the pleasant view he'd been eyeing for nearly ten minutes.

Christ! The last few washes of his jeans had made them threadbare and worn, but they were the most comfortable ones he’d packed. Especially for hot days like today. The obstructive form and fit of these jeans shorts pinched his tight thighs and were even more comfortable sans underwear. Not wearing anything underneath allowed the sewn fabric to brush, semi-constrict, his throbbing balls and thickening cock. The more he moved, sauntered an inch or more, he swore he could masturbate, freehand. Purely Brian Kinney style.

No one was the wiser. Fools.

The oscillating fan, set up on the kitchen table, was barely making any dent in the mugginess of the room.

Brian liked these pair of shorts, because they were also his FuckMe clothes. He wore them whenever days like this one made him all sweaty and sticky, reminding him of the aftermath of a stellar orgasm. Why he was wearing them here, for one pair of eyes only, was leaving him befuddled.

His long, tapered fingers trailed up from his bulging groin, playing with the snap at the waist, barely skimming his belly button. the edge of his fingernails lightly scratched the surface of his goose-bumped flesh, along his washboard abdomen, sending prickly, tingling sensations down to his toes and straight to the tip of his leaking length. He nearly ejaculated when he reached up to play at one of his pink, protruding nipples. He bit on his bottom lip, arching his head back, lost in the feeling of the image in his head. He could still see Michael, through hooded lids, utterly oblivious and enjoying something other than the presence of his supposedly missed best friend. Staring at Michael, completely ignoring him, was driving him over the edge. His fantasies grew bolder than he felt at this very moment.

Brian had been bored out of his ever-loving mind. Watching Michael wasn't the boring part, but it was what Michael was watching that irked him.

Michael was in the next room, the living room. Plastered in front of a 13-inch television screen set up on a wobbly TV tray. Seated on the couch, Indian style, he'd become engrossed in his favorite program normally run at this time on a weekday. The Novotny home wasn't even hooked up to decent cable. Too many other expenses. A generic, rabbit-eared antenna was being used, which accounted for the bad reception and the fizzy-fuzzy sounds coming from the tiny speakers. One could barely make out shapes of people on screen through the snow and distortion. Rumor had it, the screen was in color.

Brian didn't think television was worth the hassle if you could only hear dialogue. Michael had odd quirks only those who knew him best allowed him. Except, Brian had thought, with enough time and patience, Michael would grow bored himself. At least end the summer right, spending the last week of Brian's summer break doing stuff together and enjoying one another's company.

Instead, here Brian was, alone, jacking off in the next room, while Michael, also alone, was barely paying him any mind... at all.

The oscillating fan whooshed by, sending shivers over Brian's flushed, heated skin. He almost went into orbit, but was able to control the sharp pangs of pleasure. "Oh... shit!!" He swiveled around to face the sink, groaning and wincing out the tiny kitchen window. "Fuck!" The cabinets stroked over his growing hard-on at his waist. The antique handles on the doors and drawers drove him into further ecstasy as they caressed his super-sensitive length, running down his inseam. "G... awd!" His knees were prepared to buckle under him, but he quickly turned on the faucet for cold water. He hurriedly splashed his face, threading his shaking fingers through his long mahogany strands. He buried his shame in the aluminum edged sink, dousing his burning flesh with chilled water.

"You okay, Brian?!" Michael asked loudly, caught between watching the flickering screen and hearing the explicatives coming from the kitchen. Though his face was toward the direction of his, possibly, near-death best friend, those chocolate eyes never once departed from the TV. He was munching on a bowl of buttered popcorn, playing catching games with his mouth. Periodically, he would lick his fingers, ridding them of the greasy residue, even though he had a stack of napkins laying on his own bare, pale, dark-haired thigh.

The old pair of khaki shorts reached Michael's mid-thigh, or used to. In this past year, he'd been steadily growing out of his clothes, little by little. Whenever he sat down for too long, they rode up to his crotch. Michael wore his favorite Captain Astro/Galaxy Lad T-shirt. The Dynamic Duo in full flight to save the world. Brian had bought the shirt for him with the money from his first job’s paycheck. Hadn’t been Michael’s birthday, not even Christmas. Brian had seen it, bought it. For Michael.

The shirt had, of course, been worn so often, the iron-on transfer wasn’t as visible anymore. Nor did it fit the same. The sleeves just reached the bend in Michael’s elbows and the bottom hem skimmed the waist band of most of his pants, leaving just enough exposure of pale midriff to send Brian into a frenzy. Brian had known Michael would look good in the shirt, but not this good. Michael usually wore this to bed or as something he wore to lounge around the house in, doing odd jobs and dirty work for his mother.

Over Spring Break, many moons ago and without Brian’s knowledge, Michael had hit a growth spurt, filling out in all the right places. Gone was the sunken upper chest, the boney hips and the skinny bird legs. In their place were muscular thighs and calves with a spattering of dark raven hair. A thickening waist with a well-defined pelvic bone structure and a solid sculptured abdomen, blending into a perfectly shaped breast bone. Brian had cupped those awesomely defined pecs, admiring the workout regime that Michael was adhering to. Michael still found ways to hide under his baggy clothes, unsure of his attractiveness.

All the while Brian was left salivating in Michael’s wake. Too many wandering eyes were admiring what he had always assumed was *his*. He didn’t like the streak of jealously that wanted to erupt, lately. Michael seemed unaware of everything around him.

Yes... Michael Charles Novotny was undeniably H-O-T-T. Two Ts, because it was that unbelievable. Finally there was no reason to dismiss Brian’s churning volcanic lust for his best friend.

Taking the mini shower nozzle from the perch in the corner of the sink, Brian squeezed the handle, drenching the portions of his body he could reach with the long cord. Each blast of ice cold liquid made him take in a sharp intake of breath through his teeth.

"You know... we DO have a shower upstairs, Brian..." Michael had turned his face, and eyes, to look at Brian, during a rather unfunny commercial break. All too quickly he swiveled back around when a promotional ad came on for the next episode of what he was watching on television. "Awwww... shit!! No fuckin’ way! Come on!! How can they do that??!! She’s such... a bitch!!" He went back to munching on the popcorn, clamped in his palm.

Brian placed the nozzle back in it’s slot, shut off the water and shook his head to air dry his wet locks and moist skin. The intense heat in the house had dried him immediately. His bare skin was cool to the touch. The Babylon tank-T was soaked. He pulled off the shrinking fabric, planning to use it to wipe away future perspiration. He tucked the material down the front of his crotch.

Two things were pissing Brian off, the huge waste of time this day was becoming and the fact that he was being ignored... by Michael. Even if what Michael was watching only took up a few hours, there was still a gorgeous day going on outside being forgotten. Brian had no one to blame for this but himself. While away at school, what else could Michael do but find other ways to eat up his day. Other interests that gave him pleasure. Moments that used to belong to Brian. Now they were being squelched without any thought.

Brian was slightly hurt and a bit disturbed. *Hurt* by the blatant dismissal of his importance to Michael’s life. Deeply disturbed by the fact that he was becoming that emotionally affected by the gradual change. It should be a normal occurrence, but after so many years of being Michael’s faithful companion, losing his slot by his side was... quite torturous.

If Brian was a true prick... bastard... ruthless asshole, like most people thought, he’d have dragged Michael into the kitchen, by the hair, threw him face down over the plastic table-clothed kitchen table and fucked his brains out. But... he wasn't. So he simply inhaled a good, solid breath, brushed his fingers through the sides of his hair, feathering them over his ears... and calmly exhaled all the perverted, raunchy bad air.

"Miiikkkkeeeyyyy!!" Brian groaned, playfully stomping off the tacky linoleum. He needed to not be by himself too much these last few days spent with Michael. His own fragile mind and horny thoughts would have a field day.

"Bbbbrrriiiaaannn!!" Michael stretched out the name to tease in kind. He had known that Brian must be suffering something awful. He had only been half-interested in what was on the television. Somehow the agony seemed sweeter to lead Brian on, like this. Make him finally work for the attention he normally found seeping out of other men for him. Michael wanted to be different. Plus, this was allowing him to vent off some steam over not having Brian for so long. Not even one fucking visit in four months! Rat Bastard!!

Brian padded over, in his bare feet, to the side of the couch. He reached over to snap his fingers in front of Michael’s face. "Yo! Is it over, yet?!"

Michael shook his head in answer. "Ten more minutes. A measly... ten more minutes." He held up his index finger and thumb to demonstrate the size of the word *measly*. Brian was pouting. "A smidgen..." Michael shrunk the space a bit, going back to popping more kernels in his mouth. He tried to hide his sly smirk by licking his fingers again.

Brian huffed out a long breath, watching the intricate play of the pink tongue on pale flesh. He rolled his eyes, placing a hand on his hip, like Debbie would have done. "You said that twenty minutes ago!" Michael was literally suckling at one particular finger, hollowing his cheeks. Brian couldn’t help thinking about what that move actually looked like to him. He wiped his hands over his tired features. "What... ever!!"

"Brian, I’m at the best part! I can’t miss this or else I’ll never be able to get back on track. I’ll be outta the loop." Michael made his voice sound as whiny as it usually did, slightly exaggerated. He wanted to *play* this act to the hilt.

"But... M-i-c-h-a-e-l..." Brian really over extended the syllables of Michael’s name. He collapsed over the arm of the couch, sinking on top of Michael’s lap. His back arched over the now, flat, bare thighs. "Come... ooooooonnnnnn..." He wiggled around on top of Michael.

"Whoa!" Michael had to remove the plastic popcorn bowl before Brian knocked himself unconscious. The minute Brian fell over, Michael had untucked his legs from under his body, letting him land heavily on his available lap. "Good Lord! You can be such... a drama queen!" He couldn’t help but chuckle, not grow angry. The plan was working like a charm. He had Brian Kinney right where most men would die to have him. He set the bowl off to the side, on the cushions.

Michael hadn’t finished cleaning off all the butter. He didn’t feel right touching Brian with the slippery, greasy residue. He was holding his arms out, away from both their bodies. He simply thought Brian was gonna lay on him for the rest of the show, so he brought the remaining fingers toward his lips.

Brian snatched for his right wrist, situating his torso, upright. Now he was sitting on Michael’s lap, shadowing the starry-eyed, flabbergasted features. Brian placed his left hand behind Michael’s head for balance. "Please... allow me..." Hazel eyes drank in the dilating chocolate ones as he tentatively stuck out his own pink tongue, playfully licking along the single digits. First, the pinky. The tip of Brian’s tongue tasted the utter sweetness as he lapped at the pad covered by the leftover salt and butter mix. He suckled, eye-balling Michael’s drooping mouth at the sensitive feeling to his skin at a dangerous stance. "Mmm... Tasty Mikey. Let me try another." Next came the third finger and the middle one. Brian followed the same pattern of washing. The licks were under sided as he inserted them to suck them diligently clean. His dick throbbed incessantly. He was hoping his actions were conveying the right message of the other talents his tongue and mouth could master.

Michael drew back on his hand, easily tugging Brian closer to his own lips he’d licked only a few short seconds ago. He wanted a kiss, taste the buttery saltiness on Brian’s own mouth. Instead, Brian had dipped his head, meshing their foreheads together, like always. "Brian..." He could barely groan out the familiar name coherently. He shut his eyes to the view of Brian’s lush bottom lip so near... yet, so far. He wanted them on his skin, like they were on his fingers, licking and sucking every inch. Michael’s shorts were constricting proper blood flow to his groin. He wondered if Brian could feel his growing hard-on under his backside.

"Yes, Mikey?" Brian was working on the index finger.

"Quit... it!" Michael used his licked right hand to give Brian a hard shove backwards. Christ! That was a close one! He reached to untuck the pink Babylon shirt that Brian had stuffed in his jean’s crotch. He needed something to clean his hands with since he couldn’t find his napkins anymore.

Wow! Brian snapped back in awe. Michael had gotten stronger. Would it do any good to inform him that rough sex could be fun, too? Before he realized Michael’s intentions for the shirt, Brian attempted to struggle with Michael’s tight hold on the material. "Don’t !"

"Don’t what?!" Michael hadn’t looked to see what exactly was laying underneath.

Until their playful fight turned into a dirty secret revealed.

Michael’s hands accidently brushed the intense mound of Brian’s groin. The fabric throbbed with imploding pressure. Holy Christ!!

Brian gave up, falling backwards, his torso landing half on Michael, half on the couch cushions. He drew up his arms to hang over his embarrassed face. "Oh, Lord, please forgive me..." He went on to mumble some incoherent prayer of forgiveness as he tried to control his breathing.

"Brian?" Michael kept his right hand where it lay, under the pink fabric, very close to the snap of the cutoff jeans. His left hand had no where else to go but resting on Brian’s naked chest. Each intake of air sunk the abdominal wall muscle in, clearly defining the long rib cage. A lap full of Brian Kinney was a tempting adventure. Michael casually placed his palm to Brian’s flushed skin.

"Yeeessss!" Brian achingly groaned his pain.

Michael would have loved to have gotten Brian back for his tease during their Patrick Swayze incident, but somehow he’d managed to get over that shame. This was something entirely different. He and Brian had been in the house... alone. What had driven Brian to this much torture? Couldn’t have been little ole *me*? He heard Brian say something, but wasn’t sure it was actually for his ears to pick up. "What?"

"Touch... me..."

"Uh, Brian... I’m still watch-..." The antenna choose that very moment to fizz out, causing the loud noise to fill the awkward silence. What The Fuck!? Michael swallowed with some difficulty. He hadn’t planned on teaching Brian a harsh lesson about how you treat your best friends this far.

The first thrust was alarming as Brian arched his spine. "It’s okay, Mikey. I won’t tell. Just... go ahead... touch me. You’ve always been curious." Oh, Lord! What in the world was rolling out of my mouth? "Fuckin’ do it!"

Michael had never imagined that Brian could feel so warm... so sizzling hot. Even through the rough white fabric of the torn white jeans, the heat was irrefutable. The shape of the hidden cock was... unspeakable. Michael didn’t dare lift up the Babylon tank-T. What in the HELL would I release? He swore there were possibly burn marks scorching the material. "I don’t understand..." He shook his head in wonder. Brian was, literally, on fire for him... and he couldn’t make the next move.

Brian looked from under his arms, his hazel eyes glazing over with passion. "What don't you understand?" He lifted his torso on his elbows. Michael couldn’t be that green. Something else was bothering him.

With one hand, his left, Michael covered blushing features, wishing he could slowly sink into the cushions. Could I NOT be here, please? "Stop! You’re scaring me." His right hand remained immovable on Brian’s zipper.

Brian was speechless. Christ! He hadn’t meant to do this to Michael. He raised his body to sit back on Michael’s lap, caressing and kissing his bewildered features. "Shit! I’m sorry!" He gently kissed one eye lid. "Sorry. I’ve missed you, Mikey." Then the other lid. "I’m upset. I didn’t mean to..." As he was about to do his infamous tender kiss on Michael’s lips, he had to suck in a quick breath. God Damn!

Nimble fingers had slipped under the frayed cutoff jean pant leg, trailing up the quivering thigh muscle. As Michael followed the sense of heat to Brian’s engorged cock, he felt the muscles contract. His palm expertly cupped the thick length, gently tugging once.

Brian wrapped his arms about Michael’s neck, snapping his head back in frustrated delirium. The tighter he held onto Michael, the more intense Michael’s nips and bites became all over his upper chest. He was sure, once a few hours passed, there would be marks left on his skin. Reminders of Michael he could take back to his lonely dorm. A second thrust completely filled Michael’s hands with as much as he could handle. Brian could decipher the intricate touches of Michael’s fingers over his dick and down the shaft to the pubic hair. "Feel me..."

Michael was flabbergasted by his own show of confidence. He had no idea where this was coming from. "Is this... all for me?" Who said that?

"YES!! FUCK!!" Brian buried his face in Michael’s hair, inhaling the calming, familiar scents. This should feel wrong. This should be making him run for the door. But they both seemed committed to follow through on every action and re-action. "Mikey..." He attempted to lift his weakening neck muscles, but his forehead fell off to the side, perfectly finding shelter in the crevice of Michael’s neck and shoulder. "I could... sooooo..." He took in a sharp breath as Michael’s hand tightened it’s grip and pulled even harder. "... fuck you... right now!"

"I know." Michael stated as clear as a bell as he removed his hand from under the pant leg, finding it even more scintillating and sexy to jack off Brian over the jeans. He couldn’t help but stare at the way Brian was reacting to the situation. "You’re awfully quiet, Brian." Funny, I wanted the dirty, slutty mouth, spewing naughty language.

His head still buried in Michael’s shoulder, Brian brushed his face into the soft raven-colored hair. "You want the words? I can give you words."

"Those aren’t the words I want, Brian." Michael continued to massage Brian through the heavy fabric. He could feel the wet spot beginning to form on the material. The catches in Brian’s breathing were telling signs enough that he was just as horny for him.

The heavy slam of a car door sounded, followed by the bellowing of one Debbie Novotny. "Michael Charles... get your cute friggin’ ass out here! Pronto!"

"Christ!" Brian groaned into Michael’s neck. His release was quick. Of course, Michael never knew this euphoria had been building all damn day.

"Fuck!" Michael sighed heavily. His mother had the worst timing! After Brian’s orgasm, he was amazed how hard his cock remained.

Brian couldn’t help but chuckle. He pressed a quick kiss to Michael’s lips, detaching his body from Michael’s lap. He stood to hold out a hand for Michael to grab.

Michael took the simple, friendly offer, unsure if he’d be steady enough on his rubbery legs. His own shorts had nearly run up the crack of his ass. "Man! Major wedgie!" He fidgeted to unhinged the khaki fabric from his backside. He was about to quickly turn to head outdoors, when Brian wouldn’t let go of his hand. He was pulled to Brian’s bare chest, slapping against his skin. "What?"

Brian sent a wandering hand to cup Michael’s groin in his own palm. He let out a wide grin. "Just... making sure." With that said, Brian moved to slip on his sneakers and head out the front door. The pink Babylon tank t-shirt was repositioned again, hiding Brian’s dormant hard-on from view.

"Making sure what?" The Novotny hands-on-hips move was paired with Michael’s cracking voice. Shit! "Brian?! Wait!!" He quickly followed out the door to see what his mother had found he’d done wrong again.

Brian was standing on the front lawn, eyes bulging. "Jesus Christ, Deb!"

Michael nearly bumped into Brian’s back, but a hand reached to steady him. "Wha-? What the hell happened, Ma!"

The Novotny family car was caked in thick gobs of industrial fertilizer... simply put, the car was covered in shit. Like someone had squatted on the roof and went to town.

Brian had to cover his mouth and nose. The stench was potent. "Doing wheelies on the farm again, Deborah Jean?? Takes a whole new meaning to cow-tipping!"

Michael used Brian as a deterrent for the strong smells wafting over. He tried to recall where his mother would have gone to get the car so... well, obviously dirty. But the level of dirt and grime was... hideous to look at. "Ma went to the PFLAG demonstration at City Hall."

Debbie came out carrying sponges, buckets and bottled dishwashing soap. "Yeah, they found out which car was mine. Assholes!" She threw the boys their own sponges. "I gotta get this baby cleaned to get to work tonight. I’m pulling a seven to when-the-fuck-ever shift. Two kids called out sick. Fritz needs me to cover."

Michael held his sponge, wary of approaching the shit-covered car. "Fritz ALWAYS needs you to cover for someone. Why can’t he ever hire reliable people? I don’t want you getting exhausted."

Debbie was dragging out the rubber hose from the side of the house, from the water spicket. "Well, since I’m the only one holding onto a job, Michael. I‘m gonna need to do as many of these shifts as I can." She came over to pat his ruddy cheek. "You look pale, sweetie. Been over exerting yourself?"

Brian let out a harsh snicker as he walked around the car to scope out the mess they were getting into. "Deb, I hope you got the license plate number."

Debbie put a hand on her hip, the hose nozzle in her other hand. "Of what exactly?!" It was an actual person who masterminded this catastrophe.

Brian bit his lip, squinting up at the direct sunlight that hit him as he came up from hsi squatting position. "The turd that hit you!"

Michael dissolved into fits of laughter as Debbie turned the hose nozzle in Brian's direction and pulled on the trigger. She doused him good!

"Whoo! Hoo!" Brian shot up in the air, dodging the shots coming his way. "Mikey!?"

Michael held his belly at the hilarious sight before him. "What, Brian?" He could see Brian’s head peeking from the behind the car’s shape.

"Remember? Dynamic Duo? Always have, always will." Brian whispered loudly so Debbie could hear, as well. He was hoping for his partner-in-crime.

"Oh, Christ! Not that friggin’ shit again!" Debbie turned the nozzle on her own son.

"Ma!" Michael squealed like a little girl. He put out a hand to stop the spray from hitting him. "Brian! She's a mad woman!"

"Run, Mikey, Run!" Brian hunched up and down, trying to protect Michael from Debbie’s wrath.

Michael barely made it to safety as his own mother tried to drown him mercilessly. "You... are sooooo gonna pay!"

"I’d like to see you BOTH try!" While they hid, like scared rabbits, Debbie armed herself with two buckets of soapy suds. When she let enough time pass, she picked up one bucket, tiptoeing around the front hood of the car.

They never knew what hit them. They were too wrapped up in each other, chuckling and giggling beyond belief. It was an endearing sight, but definitely one that Debbie needed to ward off at the pass. Two handsome nineteen year old boys like Michael and Brian couldn’t be children forever.

Michael was kneeling on the ground, Brian was plastered over Michael’s back, trying to look under the belly of the car. "Where the fuck did she go?"

Michael was about to turn around and reply when he caught sight of the wave of sudsy water coming toward them. "Duck! I got you covered!" He blocked Brian from being doused again as the long swimmer’s build of his best friend crawled, sneaking, under the car to reach the second bucket.

And so the Soap Suds war began. No real victor in the end. Two very wet best friends, an equally wet mother, but a very clean car, nonetheless.

Debbie had run away to shower so she could make dinner for her boys before she left for work. She left Brian and Michael alone to finish up washing the car. She’d seen the rift that had been forming between the childhood best friends. The separation had done more damage than she wanted. She couldn’t bear to see them suffer anymore. Brian would be gone again in another week and she would be left with picking up the pieces of Michael’s shattered heart... and her own.

With a light smile on her lips, through the eventual sadness that would soon follow, she walked through the front door, heading upstairs.

Brian was buffing the hood of the car as he cleared his throat. "Is she gone?"

Michael looked around the front yard. "Yeah. Why?"

Brian pushed off the hood, standing to his great height. "Come here, Mikey." He crooked a finger in his direction. He leaned his thigh on the car.

Michael got choked, trying not to look directly at Brian as he walked straight into his embrace. His arms reached completely around Brian’s thin, muscular frame. He held on as tightly as he could. "I know. I’ve missed you, too."

Brian buried his face in Michael’s hair. "That stuff before... in the living room..."

"What about it?" Michael wanted to pull out of Brian’s hold, but he wouldn’t let him go.

"It’s real, Mikey. Everything with you is real. Always has been, always will be. I have no hidden secrets. I have no hang-ups. I just need to be with you and I’m home. I don’t get that feeling anywhere else, with anyone else... just you. I can’t find another *you*. I don’t know how else to say what I feel for you to get my meaning. I just hope... it’s always gonna be enough, you know?"

Three little words, Kinney! "I know. And it is, Brian. It is enough." For now.

Brian plopped down on the hood, drawing Michael backwards into his arms to sit on his lap. "So, I was thinking... you need to come up and visit me sometime. You can stay with me. Or we can get a room off campus. I’m not going away just yet. I still got some more things to teach you about Life, Mikey." He crossed his arms over Michael’s chest, his heartbeat strong on his back. He pressed a tender kiss to the delicate ear lobe near his lips. "Pretty soon, New York will be calling for me... but I want you to know, I will always... always be here for you. That will never change, though we may be apart for some time. You and I..."

Michael nodded, capable of finishing the statement. "... we’re forever. Like the Dynamic Duo." He gripped onto Brian’s forearms, wrapping his own arms about his body.

"Got that right!" Brian sighed, keeping Michael in his grasp for longer than he should have. He curled into the constant body heat he felt whenever Michael was near. It used to soothe him, sometimes from a fit full sleep. Now the sensation simply made him crave his best friend. He didn’t understand the change. Why it needed to happen.

Why was Brian thinking, contemplating, about wanting to share every experience, be a part of the joy, laughter and... love in Michael’s little world... forever and infinity, when there was so much more out there to play with and to explore?

Maybe one day, Brian could convince Michael to come be with him, travel the world and see all that was outside of The Pitts and take in every new adventure. He’d make enough money to keep them both comfortable and happy. Alone, but together.

But... they were still only nineteen. There was plenty of time for those fantasies to be fulfilled. These were the years they deserved to run about and be the young men they felt free enough to be.

Brian rested his chin on Michael’s shoulder, feeling the smaller body sink into his essence. "So... your Mom said she’s leaving us by ourselves tonight. You wanna go to Babylon? I still got those fake I.D.s Vic gave us."

Michael pushed off from Brian to stand in front of him. "Guess what?" A sly smirk formed on his lips.

Brian couldn’t help grinning. "What?"

"Guess what’s playing at the DuMont?" Michael crossed his arms over his chest, his sent his sneakered foot to kick Brian’s.

Brian noticed the way Michael was smiling. "No... fuckin’... way! They play black-n-white classics at the DuMont. How can they...? Mikey, what did you do?"

Michael snickered as he inhaled his next breath. "The usher, but... that’s neither here, nor there. I remembered how you always said Patrick Swayze looked better on the big screen."

Brian was shocked by Michael’s admission of sex with another man. "Really? The usher? Is he cute?"

Michael grabbed Brian’s shoulders, shaking him. "Brian... I said... Patrick Swayze."

"I know. I heard you the first time. Was he any good?"

"Patrick Swayze?" Michael was confused, too caught up in spending time with Brian before he left for school. Soaking up anything and everything he could to last him during the dry spells.

"The usher. Does he have any friends? Mikey..." Brian reprimanded his best friend for leaving all the good information out as Michael calmly walked away, never admitting to what he actually had done with the movie theater usher. "Hey... come back here! Michael Charles!"

**==========THE END==========**

  


  



End file.
